A Gift for the Bride
by adrielmoonstar
Summary: Matthew's wedding gift doesn't get quite the reaction he expects.


A Gift For the Bride

June 1920

Lady Mary stood at the library window, watching Carson stalk about the lawns in the late summer twilight , inspecting the marquees, for possibly the tenth time. She smiled as he adjusted one of the potted rosebushes, into the exact spot he'd moved it _from_ a half hour earlier.

"Dear Carson." Mary started as her sister came up beside her to watch the butler's antics, how was it even possible for a pregnant woman to walk that quietly! "He seems quite torn between bursting with pride at your marriage or bursting into tears at your imminent departure." Sybil laughed and laid her hand on her sister's shoulder, "You always were his favorite."

Mary glanced ruefully at the table under the other window and muttered, "Well, at least I won't need to take any of the silver this time."

Giving her sister a puzzled glance Sybil padded across the room."The gifts are quite lovely, although if the tortured looks Matthew has been giving you since we arrived are any indication, I can't imagine they were worth the wait."

No, they certainly were not! If Mary had her choice she would have been married before the Christmas decorations had been put away. But her parents, grandmother, even Matthew had insisted on a big, traditional wedding. As usual Granny had made the final point, _"My dear, if you want to face down a scandal, you can't go about it using half-measures." _ The entire operation had been planned like a well-oiled military campaign. In fact, Matthew had once remarked that if the army had sent Cousin Violet and Cousin Cora to Belgium in 1914 the war might really have been 'over by Christmas'. But of course, such a production couldn't be staged overnight, several months of planning were required at a minimum. And then, well, an April wedding seemed somehow disrespectful to Lavinia, and Granny's superstitions ruled out May. So here they were, in the first week of June, staging the spectacle of the season.

Mary would not be completely at ease until the wedding was performed without incident. But she had to admit that Mama and Granny's plan seemed to be working. Everyone who might be expected to attend the Yorkshire wedding of the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham had accepted. The table was practically groaning with perfectly correct gifts, no Turkish carpets or previously worn jewels.

Papa had wanted to hold the wedding in London, to "_rub Carlisle's nose in it_", but Granny had vetoed that idea. Apparently she'd been too busy pulling strings in a different section of her web.

Upon the Dowager's advice, they'd announced their engagement at the beginning of February, the slowest month in the Society year. "_Gossip from the newspaper is not nearly as juicy when there's no one around to _share_ it with…_"

Predictably, Richard had printed Mary's story the next day, along with plenty of insinuations about Bates, Anna and the Earl's household in general. However, it seemed that he had held his prize a bit too long. After all, Mary's story had made the rounds years ago, fueled by Edith's letter to the Turkish ambassador. Thanks to Violet's machinations throughout the month of January, people were much more interested in the rumors about what Carlisle had been doing with the story all this time. Unsurprisingly, his competitors were also quite interested in pointing out that he'd concealed a rather significant involvement with the subsequent victim of a murder enquiry. Between Lady Flincher and Lady Rosamund, half of Society was convinced that he'd murdered Vera Bates himself, to ensure his hold over 'poor Lady Mary'.

Mary was pleased at the outcome, of course, if only because Mama, and Granny, deserved the victory after all these years. But at the moment she just wanted it all to be over. She had waited quite long enough to spend her life with Matthew and now that the wedding was in sight each day seemed longer than the last. It didn't help that Papa and Matthew had been travelling down to London on "estate business" much too frequently over the last few months. Papa was determined that Matthew should have every bit of the settlement that Patrick would have had. Matthew, predictably, didn't want any part of it and was particularly appalled at the idea of assuming one of the family's unused courtesy titles. It was all very kind of Papa, after all Richard would never have seen a penny of her dowry, but right now Mary needed her fiancé, here at her side, the wedding was, after all, the day after tomorrow.

She just barely refrained from dashing outside when she saw the motor pulling up the long drive, although she did rush into the hall to greet the two most important men in her life. She shared a quick smile with Carson, who hurried back to his post at the first sound of the engine. Everyone must have been listening for the arrival, because she only had time for the briefest of hugs before the rest of the family began pouring in with excited greetings and questions.

When the excitement showed no sign of abating, the Dowager Countess thumped her cane, quite emphatically, on the floor. "I should like to know what _business_ could be important enough to keep the two of you away for so long at a time like this! I hardly think that any estate matters could not have waited until after the wedding. Downton has, after all, run smoothly for centuries, surely a few weeks could not make a great difference."

Fortunately, Cora was standing at the back of the knot of family, so only Robert could see her rolling her eyes. Things hadn't been running _that_ smoothly when he'd been forced to search out an American heiress to save the estate. He caught his wife's eye and gave her a warm smile. _I wouldn't have it any other way,_ she could read it in his expression after all these years, _it brought me to you._

Breaking eye contact with his wife, the earl replied."I'm afraid this particular business could not wait, Mother, as it is something of a gift for the bride. I think that we must let Matthew share it with Mary first, then the rest of us can discuss it over dinner."

Although no one, least of all Violet, was pleased at having to wait for the news, they couldn't argue with Robert's logic. They disbursed to ready themselves for the evening while Matthew drew his fiancée into the library.

Once they were alone, Mary twined her arms around her fiancé's neck and asked with a questioning smile. "So, What is the big secret?"

He stepped away and for just a moment she could see the nervous young man who had first come to Downton so many years ago as he presented her with a rather large envelope. "It's something of a wedding present, my darling" he said with that endearingly shy smile.

Mary's heart leapt, and then sank as she read the opening words…Resolved in Parliament…"Matthew", she breathed in shock as she sat rather heavily in Cousin Violet's customary chair, "Have you broken the entail?"

"More or less…" He replied, clearly surprised by her reaction. "I thought you'd be pleased?" His bright blue eyes peered at her filled with confusion He could see that he'd done something wrong, but couldn't figure out what it might be as she laid the papers down and sat with her head in her hands, and for the first time in all these years the Lady Mary wept openly in front of him.

He stood rooted to the spot where she left him. "Darling, what is it? I don't understand. Please tell me."

Wiping her eyes, she looked up, but not at him, anywhere but at him. Staring fixedly at the portrait over the cold fireplace she asked quietly, "So is this the final test?" At his start of surprise, she continued, "Did you need to be sure I wouldn't throw you over in the end for lack of prospects?"

In a sudden burst of understanding, he rushed over and knelt at her feet, seizing her hands in his. "Darling, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never even _imagined_ that you could think such a thing. I could _never_ think of you like that. For God's sake, Mary, you stayed by my side when I was far less than a country solicitor!"

_Impotent, crippled and stinking of sick…_The memory hung between them like an old nightmare come to life until Mary gently pulled him up beside her laying her head on his shoulder. "Oh Matthew, you were _never_ less." For a few moments, or perhaps for an eternity, they simply held each other grateful to have regained so much they had thought lost forever. But in the end, Mary pulled away, gesturing at the papers now laying on the table before her. "I don't understand? How? Why? Why now?"

"I wanted to protect you, and I must admit, Downton. And I wanted it to be separate from the marriage contracts, just in case…" Seeing the hurt look returning to her eyes he hastened on. "If the change is ever contested, it will be more secure this way."

"What change? Matthew what, exactly, have you done? I thought you said it was impossible. Before…" Before everything changed. Before the world they had know had been swept away in a storm of blood and tears. Before they'd almost thrown away every chance at happiness.

Matthew sighed, remembering how painful it had been when he'd had to reveal the sad truth to her that they were merely pawns in the affairs of the estate, and that while he might be promoted to knight, she would never be made queen. "_Do I mean nothing in all this?"_ The words still echoed in his ears.

"I don't think it _would_ have been possible, before the War. Even now, we only managed a compromise, and that only because the estate could be at risk. It was actually your father's idea, a way to lull the House of Lords into securing the future without having to face any actual change right now." He was pacing now, he always paced when he was nervous or trying to explain some complicated point.

Mary couldn't help but notice how stiffly he was holding himself, unconsciously rubbing his back after the long train ride. He needed a hot bath and a good night's sleep, but she needed an explanation. "Yes, Papa can be marvelously devious in a pinch, he gets it from Granny. But you still haven't told me what you've done. And what risk? The war is over you are young and healthy…How could you convince Parliament that the estate is in danger?"

With a sudden sickening clarity, Matthew was beginning to realize that Mary might not approve of what he and Robert had done. If he could just make her understand _why_ they had done it…"Major Gordon", he stated simply, encapsulating the greatest danger in two simple words.

Mary just stared, aghast at the memory of that horrible time. Edith had been so earnest, and gullible. Mathew had been so remote and detached, even as the final remains of his former life were being snatched away. And she had been so _angry_ at all of them; at Gordon for the deceit, at Edith for the betrayal, at Matthew for the surrender, at Richard for the insistence that she had no right to care, and ,most of all, at herself for the knowledge that he was correct, she'd thrown away that right along with everything else with her own foolish choices. But "Patrick" Gordon had given up, run away before they could catch him in the lie. And it was a lie, they'd followed up after the war, just to be certain. "Surely you don't think that he would trouble us again?"

"Him, personally? No. But the fact remains that your cousin's body was never found. Anyone, well, any male with the right general physical characteristics and a properly fabricated story could challenge the estate when your father dies. And the farther off that is, many, many years I hope, the harder it would be to disprove."

"But Gordon knew Patrick, that's how he was able to fool Edith…with details about the family…"

"Mary," he gave her a wry smile, "You can't possibly believe that the real Patrick would be the only possible source of information on that score. Surely servants have been let go over the years… nannies or governesses who might be persuaded to reminisce about their former charges?"

He had a point there, they had scared off an impressive parade of governesses over the years, much to Mama's chagrin. And "reminisce" might not be the right word for the things they would say. A really determined investigator could probably come up with quite a catalogue of embarrassing childhood memories, the exact type that would be the most convincing, especially to anyone who wanted to turn back the clock which she imagined was pretty much the entire House of Lords. So it certainly made sense to take precautions, but surely having Patrick legally declared dead, or even formally disinheriting him would not require an act of parliament. Mary drew herself up, unconsciously imitating the Dowager Countess, and raised an eyebrow. "You clearly think that you and Papa have 'pulled a fast one', so to speak, so there must be a bit more to it than securing the estate against Patrick's shadow."

He looked around the room, clearly uncomfortable, but finally fixed his earnest gaze upon her face and stated, "It's very simple really, I am to be the next Earl of Grantham, but upon my death the estate will pass to you and your heirs."

"But surely my heirs will be your heirs?"

"That is the assumption, which is how we got the bill passed so quickly. But you, of all people, should know that there are no guarantees." She nodded, acknowledging the gentle jibe. After all, no one could have predicted the way a "middle class lawyer from Manchester" would change her life. "And no one jumped in to protect the _rights_ of any other heirs?" Just a trace of the old hurt showed on her face as she recalled her father's defense of the entail all those years ago.

"That's the thing, there really are no viable heirs, because of the war mostly." Matthew looked away, pacing again. He wanted to believe that Robert would have supported his plan just for her sake, but he would never be completely _sure._

"Surely there must be _someone?_" she asked lightly. She could guess the source of this new discomfort, and it was not an issue she wanted to think about just now, or, to be perfectly honest, ever again.

Seizing on the details of the matter, to prevent the conversation from devolving onto that particular track, Matthew conceded, "There are two distant cousins of your father's, but both are somewhat older, and childless."

"I thought that didn't matter, for a man." Oh, the bitterness was still there, but it was certainly justified and he didn't begrudge it.

"The first is a Scottish vicar." Despite the tension, they shared a smile at the thought of the Dowager Countess's reaction to _that_. "He and his wife are both in their sixties, and both of their, unmarried, sons died in the war. So no children there."

Mary nodded somberly. She wouldn't pretend any special grief for people she'd never met, but it was a sad story, repeated all too often across the entire country, the entire continent really.

"The other is a somewhat…eccentric…oxford don. He is closer to your father in age, but marriage and children are…highly unlikely." He looked away, embarrassed. He suspected that Mary understood, but there were things that one just didn't talk about.

Mary smiled and sardonically raised an eyebrow as she nodded again. After everything he'd been through Matthew was still so _proper_. She'd spent years in a house crammed full of young men who felt they had nothing left to lose, which as often as not was synonymous with nothing left to hide. Lady Mary Crawley was well acquainted with all the varieties of human nature, thank you very much, and propriety be damned.

"But here's the really clever bit, which I'm sure most of the Lords chose to ignore." He paused, looking out over the wedding preparations on the lawn. "Your heirs don't have to be male. And if it came down to it, the estate could pass to your sisters…or other children."

"By other children, you mean children with another man! Matthew what are you saying?" Now Mary was pacing too, shocked and nervous, all her old insecurities coming to the fore. Suddenly she stopped and stared, realizing that this had nothing to do with her, this was Matthew's insecurity. His body had healed, far better than anyone had ever hoped, but the fear had never completely gone away. Damn Clarkson and his pronouncements of doom! Matthew was afraid that he might not be able to father children.

Mary had a sudden, sickening, vision of Matthew, proud, _honourable_, Matthew, standing up in front of the House of Lords, sharing his own private hell, for her. She made her way over to the window beside him and laid her hand on his back, over the old scar. "Matthew, please tell me that you did not testify that you could not…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"No, darling, of course not. I plan on having a houseful of children with you, and I'd never do anything that would put them, or you, under a cloud." Mary hadn't even considered _that_. "However, I did let it be known, privately, through Napier, I guess I should call him Branksome now, and a few other fellows I knew from the Army, that my injuries made it a possibility. It could be years before we know for sure, and your future would be at risk the entire time."

He would _never_ let her know how hard it had been to share his shame, even with men he considered friends. But each of them carried his own scars, and the War had taught them all that nothing in life was to be taken for granted.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and they looked out over their future for a few moments, until Carson opened to the door to summon them for dinner. As they turned to make their way into the dining room he gave her a mischievous smile, "Just think, I'm finally going to be able to tell Cousin Violet that she's got her way in the end."

Mary shook her head and laughed. "Haven't you learned by now, she usually does."

**FIN**

A/N: I have no idea if a bill like this might have ever been passed. But it seemed like the kind of compromise a clever solicitor might make with people who were not quite ready to accept the inevitable. The entire entail system would be abolished in 1925, so change was certainly in the wind, but in 1920, no one could have predicted exactly when it would happen.


End file.
